Page 151 of Bitter Poetry
The first step is always the hardest. Isn’t that what they say?
Carefully, so as not to wake him, my heart shredding, I slip out from under his arm and out of the bed. I look down at him, wanting to commit this image to memory, a perfect moment, forbidden, a taste of what might have been mine, once upon a time.
This can’t happen again. Tomorrow, I need to be stronger.
The door is key coded, and I don’t have the code. Maybe if I asked, he would give it to me?
He won’t.
However, I know someone who has the code, who might help me.
Someone I already think of as a friend.
But what if she won’t help me? Can I betray her trust?
If it comes down to it, if I have to, I will.
CHAPTER 45
DANTE
Istayed up late talking to Leon and Mateo and didn’t get home until after three. Then I fucked Carmela. It must have been gone four by the time I finally got back to sleep.
The sunlight streaming through the window onto my face is annoying as fuck.
But something is wrong.
Something is missing that drags me to full wakefulness—a warm body should be lying next to me.
I pry my eyes open and glance around the room. She’s not here and not in the bathroom either.
Panic slams into me. I shove the covers aside and stalk through to the main living area. It’s quiet. She’s not here. Could she have gotten out?
I check the main door for any signs it’s been opened. Nothing obvious, and the code is active.
I’m going to fucking lose it.
My mind skips back over the walk down the corridor. I’m sure the guest bedroom door was left open yesterday. My head turns that way. It’s shut.
I blink a few times as this information settles in, trying to work out what happened between me fucking her and now that might have caused her to go and sleep in another room.
Was I thrashing around in my sleep?
I stalk to the door, turn the handle, and come to an abrupt stop. Outrage chases the last of the sleep from my mind. I can’t believe she put a locked door between us again. I bang on the door. “Carmela, open this goddamn door.”
“Leave me alone, Dante.”
I guess that clears up any misconceptions I might have had about why she moved her ass here. “We don’t have locked doors between us.”
“Correction,” she calls back. “We definitely do. Get over it!”
“Open the fucking door right now!”
I can hear the patter of footsteps, followed by a grinding sound of something being pushed across the floor.
Oh, hell no.
Where did I put the screwdriver? Did I put it back? I don’t remember putting it back. If she found it, she’s probably hidden the damn thing.
